


In Working Condition

by babyblueglasses



Series: Working Condition [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Civil War Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FrostIron Edition, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Loki, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, not spending time on making a case for Steve in this it's all hurt/comfort for Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-06-10 09:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6949756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyblueglasses/pseuds/babyblueglasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki visits Tony in the aftermath of Civil War. Fix-It fic in Frostiron edition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tony doesn’t remember when it started. 

Maybe it was around the time that he poured his heart out to Bruce for two hours only to find that he’d slept through it all. Tony played it off like it was a joke, but fuck if it didn’t hurt. 

Maybe it was around the time that he lost Jarvis. 

It was definitely before Pepper and he separated, but after he’d blown up all of his suits and cured her of extremis. Back when he’d thought his armor was a cocoon, something he could move on from with Pepper. Looking back, Tony knows the night that he struck an unusual friendship with the man from the bar, it was already too late to salvage what they’d had. Not that he could have ever recognized it at the time, when he still felt at home with Pepper’s arms around his shoulders, her head placed comfortingly over his. 

But that night when he’d been drinking in some stupid dive bar and feeling happy just not to be recognized, the man on the barstool next to his had been an attentive ear to his troubles. And Tony had needed that. Fuck he’d needed that. 

And the guy had too. Tony can still remember with crystal clarity that moment when their conversation shifted, when the stranger had opened up to _him_ about shitty fathers and never being good enough. Tony had bought him a drink. Fuck, they were best friends the moment that shift happened. 

Tony doesn’t remember much else about that night other than the shift and, of course, the moment Loki had let his glamour drop. 

And Tony would like to pretend that he got pissed, or decked the guy, or did something. But instead he’d just stared. And he couldn’t find anything inside himself to attack the man that had been pouring his heart out in return the whole night. Finally he’d just cracked a grin and said, “I guess you finally got that drink I owed you.” 

Loki started showing up after that. When Tony was alone, usually late at night. And they talked. 

That was it. 

Like their own little confessional. 

It took Loki six months to admit that original night in the bar he’d intended to get information out of Tony to use against him and the Avengers, and another two to abruptly give an apology for it that Tony hadn’t been seeking. 

Tony guessed that they were friends now. 

Or something. The sex had started after Pepper had left, but only after a ridiculously long time, and only after Loki had gotten him to admit that he was afraid to be with anyone else in any serious way. And then it had just sort of happened. And kept happening. 

But the talking didn’t stop. 

And Tony doesn’t know which Tony he’s supposed to be when Loki appears in his lab late tonight, and gently takes a gauntlet prototype from his hands. “When was the last time you slept?” Loki asks quietly. 

The soft sound is like a shrieking scream in the silent lab. Tony blinks. Forty eight, seventy two hours, he doesn’t remember. Jarvis would. 

Friday doesn’t supply anything. 

Loki is watching him at eye level by the time that Tony realizes that he hasn’t given an answer. “Can’t sleep,” Tony says glibly. “I’ve gotta finish that thing.” 

A flat acknowledgement of a smile sets on Loki’s face. He’s looming over Tony, his hands on the arms of the chair, when did that happen? Smells a little bit like leather too, but that strange cold is there. He wonders if Loki has been hanging out on Jotunheim again. Knows he has, really. That’s how it was last time. “Tony.” 

“I’m fine.” Tony waves him off, but Loki catches his hand faster than Tony realizes it. He’s still sort of waving it before he recognizes that it’s not going anywhere. 

“I saw the news.” 

Tony’s entire body stiffens. His heart rate skyrockets. “Y-you don’t watch the miserable Midgardian news.” 

“I do when it concerns you.” 

Tony doesn’t know how to react to that. He smiles, trying to shrug that one off. “Plotting something again, oh terrible one?” 

“Are we really going to play this game?” Loki asks. 

Tony sinks back into the chair. It’s too much. It’s all too fucking much. He feels the pinprick of a tear and it’s not fucking fair. Not because Loki’s never seen them, no neither can say that the other hasn't seen that more than a few times, but because he has been trying so fucking hard. 

“Rhodey—” Tony’s throat closes and he chokes on a sob. 

Loki’s hand is at his back, kneading a small circle. He’s watching Tony closely, waiting. Loki doesn’t know, he couldn’t. “Rhodey—” Tony starts again, because he wants Loki to know. It takes a few more tries. “Is—p-paralyzed because of me.” 

Loki is quiet just long enough for Tony to recognize how close Loki is to him, mere inches from his face so that Tony can make out a whisper of evergreen and frost coming from his slicked hair. “Colonel Rhodes is a soldier that understands the risks. I am sure he understood whatever task he undertook.” 

Tony almost laughs. “You sound like him.” 

There is no mirth in Loki’s expression, no attempt to reflect Tony’s trying for lightheartedness. “He is alive. You have not lost him.” Tony looks down at the floor. Loki doesn't get it. It’s his fault. “I want to know what happened.” 

Tony glances up. He’s managed to find Loki a few times before, when he needed to vent about the Avengers or Pepper or work. And Loki has always come of his own accord when he needed to unload on something. But he’s never shown up suspecting that something is wrong with Tony. “Why’re you here?” Tony’s voice cracks as he asks. 

Loki’s lips press together, but he doesn’t lean away. “I saw that man your captain is infatuated with on the news. It was difficult not to.” Tony rubs his nose, feeling the weight on his eyelids for the first time in hours. “And the news of your captain, and his comrades imprisonment…Tony, I should have come.” 

Shock strikes Tony, like a cold slap across the face. There’s genuine regret in that voice. Guilt. “Wha—Lo, what would you have done?” Tony rolls his shoulders, subtly trying to dislodge Loki’s hands. They’re not supposed to—well, they talk, fine, and sex is sex, but this—why does Loki care? “I handled it.” 

“You have nerve damage in your arm and hand,” Loki says, anger slipping into his tone. “You have bruises and evidence of blunt force trauma across your entire body,” his voice rises, “and your mind is far more burdened than when I last saw you!” 

“How can you tell?” Tony asks, half sarcastic, half curious. 

Loki grabs his injured hand. “I am more gifted than you give me credit for.” It’s playful, just barely. Tony relaxes but jumps the moment he feels a spark shoot down his arm. Oww, fuck, yeah, definitely nerves there! “Hold still.” 

Tony doesn’t even argue when Loki tips his chair back and a hand wanders down his torso, carefully avoiding the scar left behind by his arc reactor. He’s, Tony can’t fucking believe it—Loki’s healing him. “I will do the same for Rhodes,” Loki assures him, before he can even ask. 

Tony sinks with such relief that he’s crying again, silently staring up at the ceiling. “Thank—” He starts to whisper. 

“I know how much he means to you,” is Loki’s reply. They fall silent until Loki is satisfied with his work, and even then Loki allows him a few minutes to collect himself. 

When Tony finally looks at him, he sees that Loki is angry. Furious. But his arms are crossed over that ridiculous leather getup and he’s careful, judging and assessing Tony faster than he can understand himself. “Rhodey’s in the suite—” Tony says, starting to stand. 

“Sleeping, I am sure.” Tony stumbles, exhaustion catching up with him as he tries getting on his feet. Loki catches him before he can correct himself. “He can awake to a miracle in the morning, unless you are suddenly keen on making our liaison known?” He arches an eyebrow. “I thought not.” Tony doesn’t know what Loki’s planning, or how he’s supposed to behave. “You have been in the lab long enough.” 

They’re in his bedroom, suddenly. Tony takes a step and collapses onto the bed, letting out a heavy sigh. He’s wrung out. 

He feels a warning prick in his spine, reminding him that Loki stands behind him, but Tony just crawls into the bed. 

“Do you intend to tell me what happened?” Loki asks. It’s scary. Really, Tony should be scared, if he had the energy to be so. 

“You saw it on the news,” Tony says. “I’m going to bed.” 

He closes his eyes, listening. It amazes him that there’s no reply, no sound. Maybe Loki’s left already. Maybe this weird adventure in Loki’s…strange helpfulness is over. 

Tony’s just starting to fall asleep when he hears the rustling of paper and knows he’s wrong. He jolts up, but it’s too late. The flip phone hits the table as Loki dumps the contents of the envelope out, already reading the letter. “Don’t, that’s private!” 

“His shield was sitting on a bench in your lab,” Loki states. 

Fuck, it had been in plain sight. Fuck, shit. 

It’s like the fucking shadows themselves are alive and bending around Loki’s figure, draping around those sharp, livid eyes as he finishes the letter. “Why are you holding onto this?” He asks, voice a low growl. 

“What do you care?” Tony wants to flop down on the bed in defiance, but survival instinct prevents it. 

“Who gave you those injuries?” 

Tony knows that tone of voice, he knows better, he really does. “I don’t have any injuries.” 

Loki takes one step towards the bed and Tony can see that he's crossing a line, but he doesn't think past recognizing it. Loki’s voice comes dangerous and unyielding. “Who gave you those injuries?” 

“Bucky,” Tony says. 

Loki takes another step towards the bed, and Tony doesn’t know why the answer flies out of him, it just does. “And Steve, okay?” He’s yelling, holy shit, he’s yelling. “They teamed up on me, I went to go help their asses, and then I find out that Bucky murdered my parents and Steve knew about it!” Tony’s kneeling on the bed, sheets fisted in his hands, screaming. “I watched them die! I watched them die on fucking film, and nobody said anything!” 

His lungs ache as he bellows into the dim room. “Steve and Bucky just watched! They stood back and let me watch my own parents be murdered by—” Tony’s voice breaks with a violent sob. “Bucky! Cap’s precious buddy!” He’s going to hyperventilate if he doesn’t take a breath. “Fucking Cap, who my father adored, was obsessed with, knew how he died and didn’t give enough of a shit to tell his son!” Tony’s vision blurs, then snaps back. “Just protects his killer!” 

Loki hasn’t moved, but Tony isn’t really paying attention. He knows that Loki is watching, listening. “I know Hydra brainwashed him, I understand that. And I get that Steve had just lost Aunt Peggy, but does he really think that I didn’t know her? How could I not know her? I lost her too.” Tony scratches at his hair, trying to catch his breath. “But I did everything I fucking could to meet him half way, and it wasn’t good enough! I tried to explain the accords situation to him. I kept Wanda safe and out of prison, I put her up in a great space with Vision to look out for her, I didn't hand her off to the authorities! I got Barnes into psychiatric when they were going to lock him up. I was trying to keep everyone together!” 

“And he didn’t give a shit about the Avengers or anything we’ve done.” Loki’s lips part for a moment, but he remains silent. Tony can only assume that Loki thinks the same of him as everyone else. “I’m sorry for Ultron and Sokovia. Sorry for New York. Sorry I couldn’t save everyone. Sorry that I try to make things right and only make them worse.” 

There is so much more that Tony wants to say, but he’s running out of steam. And he is so tired. Fuck. He can’t do it anymore, he can’t keep it up. It was his fault, and listing it all again is agony. The answer is pretty straight forward. “Sorry I’ve never been good enough.” He’s going to break, he really is, but he needs Loki to understand. “I really thought I was going to die,” Tony half-whispers. “That moment, Steve could have killed me.” 

He ends it with a whisper. “My armor is the only thing that saved me.” 

Tony flinches as Loki approaches him, but falls apart as arms pull him in tight. Loki lies down and holds him, so tight that Tony can’t move, but Tony’s never been more grateful. He comes apart because it’s four in the morning and he hasn’t slept in three days because the nightmares don’t stop and he hurts, okay? He’s got sixteen different headaches from trying to fix his memories or at least shut his brain up from its shrieking agony for five minutes. And if he’s shaking and sobbing and staining the leather getup of a man that’s supposed to be dead, so be it. 

Tony doesn’t know how long it takes for him to wring out every last aching sob. For him to be able to breathe and hear the silence around him again. It’s even longer before Loki speaks, and when he does, it’s so quiet that it sounds like a prayer. “I am going to kill him.” 

Tony panics. “No, Loki, you can’t, it’s just a fight—” Tony will fight Loki, he will. “You can’t, don’t you fucking—”

“I won’t,” Loki says firmly. Tony’s head is spinning. He doesn’t know if it’s a lie. “But I very much want to.” 

“That’s fucked up,” Tony starts. 

Suddenly he finds himself on his back, Loki pinning him to the bed. “What makes you think that it pleases me to allow a man who put you through so much agony to roam freely?” Tony’s heart is pounding, he’s certain that Loki can feel it. “A man that mocks you in his insult of an apology and gifts you with the means to contact him, as if his assistance is a charity you should wish to permit? A man with no sense of culpability?” 

“It wasn’t that bad.” 

“I won’t have it,” Loki whispers. It’s emotional, Tony can make that much out, but he doesn’t understand it. 

He answers in a whisper, wanting to understand. “Why?” 

It’s sorrow. Tony definitely understands that there’s sorrow, or an ache. He still doesn’t understand. Loki makes an awful, pained sound as he bends down and kisses Tony on the lips, rough and awkward. Loki seems unsure of himself when he pulls back, but he’s angry. Tony can understand that much, as bewildering as this is. “It is not your responsibility to save them.” 

“But I—”

“It is not,” Loki says. He sighs, giving the ceiling a pitying appraisal. “I wish I could persuade you otherwise.” The room is so dim and Tony is so tired and this is all so overwhelming. “You have sacrificed yourself and your well being for an ungrateful world,” Loki says. 

“That’s not true.” 

The grip on him tightens. “It is,” Loki says. He shifts, gaze elsewhere again. “I wish you did not feel the obligation to be a hero, I wish I could persuade you to be selfish beside me.” Tony’s tired, he’s not following where this is going. “It is the goodness in you that causes you such agony, Anthony.” 

Tony hates when he uses that name. 

“You feel responsible for them all.” Tony turns his head to the side. He still can’t move, and he doesn’t want to try to push Loki off of him. “You toil ceaselessly to help those dear to you and absolute strangers alike.” Loki’s fingers slip into his hair. “I would much rather you not be a hero. It would serve me better.” 

“Not joining your one man band,” Tony says. He realizes they’ve had this good and evil conversation before, trying to win the other over. Loki’s not as evil as he’d like to think, in Tony’s assessment. Well, once he gets past Loki's part in New York, which is more difficult than Tony likes to admit and something he hates himself for sometimes. They shouldn't be doing whatever this is together, but they are. And Tony doesn't want to let go of it, can't. “I’m not being a sidekick.” 

Loki sighs, but then he simply lies down onto his side and pulls Tony back in, gentler this time. Tony could probably break free if he wanted to. “You would have to stop believing in the possibility of a better future,” Loki says. “And I do not believe that will occur.” 

Tony’s starting to fall asleep when that clicks in his brain. 

Loki doesn’t believe in one. 

He’s going to say something, he is, because fuck that hurts to realize, when Loki speaks. “But I can content myself with having you in these moments. Stripped of your armor,” he muses. 

Tony knows he’s getting at something, but it’s too intimate to acknowledge. “I’m too beat for sex, you’re not stripping anything tonight.” 

Loki lets out a deep breath. “Sleep,” he mutters. Then Tony feels a thumb beneath his eye, and bristles when he realizes that Loki is wiping away the concealer he put there two days ago. “It has been far too long since your last rest.” 

Tony feels like he's going to cry again because somebody noticed. It’s so strange when they do, because they almost never do. 

Instead Tony shuffles in a fraction closer, finally releasing the tension in his muscles. His neck and shoulders drop as the muscles there slowly unwind, Tony’s stomach unclenching when he hadn’t been aware of it being a tight knot in the first place. And Loki’s holding him tight. And his fingers are sliding into Tony’s hair and stroking like he’s never going to stop. 

And despite the odd, otherworldly scent of him, and the getup that Tony’s never quite stopped making fun of, Loki is familiar. And it’s obvious to Tony that he’s not going to be abandoned, or criticized, or pushed aside tonight. Loki gives no indication of ever letting go. 

And as bizarre as it is that Tony feels content with Loki of all people, he finally feels himself slipping into sleep. 

Whatever this is, it works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *goes to make it fluffier and ends up spilling extra angst* oops.  
> It just kills me that Tony repeatedly articulates that he’s struggling and having a hard time coping in IM3 to other people and it doesn’t get fully addressed or dealt with. And again in Civil War. Shout out to that tumblr post going around suggesting Tony and under eye concealer!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bonus chapter because I want to write more hurt/comfort, yay! :)  
> \--------------------------------------------------------------  
> 

When Tony wakes up in the morning, Loki is still there. 

Which isn’t all that surprising, because Tony’s made an issue out of not waking up alone and Loki has never fought him on it, so Tony secretly thinks that it’s something that Loki wants as well. 

Last night comes crashing back. 

Tony seizes up, pulling his knees in towards himself. Fuck. He feels sick. 

He fell apart in front of Loki, god of all things that Tony is not supposed to be doing, and…Tony’s afraid to turn around and look behind him. He knows Loki is there, can hear his soft breathing and feel the dip in the bed. And a good part of him feels deeply comforted by that. 

Another wave of nausea hits him. 

Why can’t he just keep his shit together? If Steve found out about Loki he’d say he’d always been right, that Tony’s judgement is broken and Tony can’t do anything right, which he can’t. 

Tony’s thoughts start piling in faster than he can make them out. 

A lazy hand sets on his shoulder and Tony chokes out a startled yelp. “Tony?” Loki asks, fighting back a yawn. 

“Yeah, fine, reindeer games, what’s—” Loki turns him over, pulling Tony in towards him, and all Tony can do is stare back wide-eyed as Loki’s arm wraps around his shoulders. 

Maybe if it was a morning where Tony hated himself a little less he’d be all over that sleep bedraggled look on Loki. This morning he can’t move. 

Loki catches on, of course he does. The soft happiness is gone in an instant, replaced by brittle suspicion and the anger from last night. “What?” It’s a command, Tony knows it is. 

“Nothing,” Tony wheezes out. “Just, waking up, you want coffee—”

“Liar.” 

Tony stares down at the mattress. It feels pitiful, even to him. The bed groans as Loki crawls over him. “Forget about that wretched captain of yours,” Loki says. He kisses the hollow of Tony’s neck, knowing it’s a favorite of his. “I want your mind to be with me this morning.” 

Tony doesn’t react when Loki’s lips meet his. Loki’s just oozing sex and total oblivion, and Tony doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him, but he can’t. The interest just doesn’t stir. He’s reeling from last night, with telling Loki about Steve, and Rhodey—Tony shoves Loki off. “Rhodey,” he says breathlessly. “I have to—” He’s out of bed and running to the suite way before he realizes that ditching Loki like this is going to have consequences. 

His heart is pounding and he’s gasping for breath when he gets to the suite. 

And Rhodey is standing there, putting his watch on. 

Tony cries. 

Not like last night, but not in a way that he can hide it either. 

“I guess it was just a little hiccup,” Rhodey says. “I’m over it.” He’s shaken up too, but Tony just smiles back. 

“Yeah,” he gets out. “Took you long enough.” 

They spend the entire day together. 

Tony fears that he might not see Loki for a few months, or get thrown out a window, but he doesn’t have the emotional endurance left to worry past that. For now he’s just relieved for Rhodey. He’ll make it up to Loki later, he will, because doing this for Rhodey is a miracle that Tony doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to repay. 

 

It’s not long before the flimsy little flip phone rings. 

“Tony?” Amazing, how that voice has the audacity to have _command_ in it, even when it’s asking a question. 

“Rogers.” Tony’s voice is hard, unyielding. 

It takes Steve by surprise. “How—how have you been doing?” 

The phone bends in awkwardly at the pressure applied by the finger held against it. “Fine. What is the purpose of this call?” 

The line is silent for a moment. “I was wondering if you’d be able to help me out with something.” 

“Go on.” 

“Meet me at the cafe on 12th and West Drive. 18:00.” 

“See you then.” 

The god tucks the phone back into his pocket. Its twin is back at the tower.

The opportunity is presenting itself faster than Loki had anticipated. He still hasn’t decided whether to go as Tony and tear the captain a new one, or go as himself and let Steve know his feelings on the issue precisely. He does know that he won’t allow anyone that put Tony through that trauma to share the same air as them without consequence. He makes his decision. He’s going as himself. 

 

Loki doesn’t appear that night, so Tony does what he does best. He takes the flip phone with him into the lab and works until he passes out. 

Bruce comes by at some point and insists that Tony eat with him, but he doesn’t stay long enough to see if his complaints about Tony’s lack of showering pay off. 

Rhodey pries him out of the lab the next day, but then he has to be back in DC. 

Tony really wants to drink but he’s been trying his hardest to stay out of the bottle, and he doesn’t want Loki to find him like that. It’s probably the only thing keeping that option off the table. 

Even if he doesn’t see Loki for months, and even if Loki caused New York, Loki gave Rhodey his mobility back and Tony has decided that he owes Loki. So whatever that translates to, Tony will be certain that he pays up. 

Time is punctuated by the starting and finishing of suits. There’s food in there somewhere, and some sleep, but Tony’s cleared out his schedule and he only signs things for Pepper electronically. 

Then, one night (or morning, Tony’s not really sure), he hears footsteps behind him. And before Tony can even start to turn around, he’s being pulled into long arms and lifted from his lab chair. “Loki—” They’re in his bedroom. “I’m sorry—”

“Whatever are you sorry for?” Loki asks, with such genuine incredulity that it’s actually sort of charming. Tony stares up at him, mouth slightly agape. 

“I—” He swallows. “Left that morning, and I thought you weren’t coming back—”

“It’s been a week,” Loki says. 

It’s felt like a year. 

“For Rhodey,” Tony starts, panicking. “I—what you—” He doesn’t know how to say it. He wants Loki to make a demand or threaten him, but he’s carrying Tony like he cares about him instead and the calm of it all is utterly baffling. “Rhodey’s better and I want to thank you and I left you that morning and I know you’re pissed so don’t, I don’t know.” 

“You’re taking a bath,” Loki says. Tony’s clothes are gone before he’s even done saying so, and he kicks the door to Tony’s bathroom open with his foot. Tony’s never been so manhandled, and it’s honestly stunning him into silence. “I am not angry with you,” Loki says, dropping Tony into a tub that’s already filled with warm, scented water.

It stops right before his chest, and Tony doesn’t even flinch because he’s processing what Loki’s just said. 

“Though, admittedly, I did not enjoy being shoved off of you.” 

Loki conjures up a stool and sits down on it, casting an imperial gaze over the tub. His eyes are supernaturally green, almost glowing, and Tony doesn’t know what to make out of that except that it sends a shiver down his spine and he thinks he might be hallucinating. 

“You needed the time with Colonel Rhodes and I was willing to oblige. I am not angry with you.” He reiterates it, hoping that Tony understands so that spooked look will drop off of his face. 

Loki seems comfortable in how he sits, one leg over the other, smiling to himself as he watches Tony. 

“I know,” Tony finally says. “You—seem happy.” 

“I am,” Loki says, smiling in acknowledgement. Fuck that’s scary. When has Loki ever said that? 

“I’m not going to turn on the news and see you as our new supreme leader, am I?” 

“No,” Loki says. “You won’t see anything on the news.” 

“Oh. Okay. Good,” Tony says, sinking down into the tub. They’re quiet for a minute, Loki just staring at him like a cat that’s got its fucking canary as Tony pretends to be interested in playing with the suds in front of him. He glances up. “Still evil?” 

“As ever,” Loki confirms. 

“Okay,” Tony says. 

He grabs a rubber duck that’s been made to look like Iron Man off the rim of the tub. Clint stuck it there as a joke ages ago.

“Have you finally decided to resign your role as hero and live as you please instead?” Loki asks. 

“No,” Tony answers. 

“Then we are the same as before,” Loki says. 

But they’re not, Tony thinks as he turns the duck over in his hands. Something is different. 

Loki reaches his arms out towards the tub, offering his hands. “Let me wash your hair.” 

Tony stares at him. 

Loki nods impatiently towards the shampoo bottle behind Tony. 

And Tony grabs it because he doesn’t know what to say. Maybe it’s some evil plot to get soap in his eyes. “No water will touch your face, I promise,” Loki says, before Tony even thinks to make that demand. 

He finds himself staring down at the water, wondering what his life is as Loki’s fingers work their way into his scalp. 

And oh, fuck, do they feel good. Tony doesn’t know what it is about having those fingernails scratch against his skin, hair thick with shampoo, that makes it so good. He accidentally hums as Loki pours water through his hair to rinse. Tony clears his throat, but it’s obvious by Loki’s smile that he hasn’t fooled anyone. 

Tony wants to question him, he does. Because something has to be up for Loki to be this happy, and Tony knows he should ask. But it just…Tony just…he doesn’t want to do anything else right now. 

Wet fingers slide beneath his chin and Tony glances up. “When was the last time you ate?” 

“Why are you being so nice?” It’s out before Tony can stop it. 

But Loki doesn’t get upset. There’s a somber, wry smile instead, and a quiet anger in his eyes that’s becoming familiar. “Because,” Loki says. “You are mine.” 

They’re not the words that Loki truly wants to say, but he knows that his possessiveness is the one thing that Tony will accept right now, and that is good enough. 

Tony’s lips twitch with a smile that fades too fast. “Are you mine then?” He asks, kidding but not. 

“If you wish,” Loki answers. Tony’s mouth drops open again, but Loki doesn’t miss the pleasure there. “Turn around,” Loki says. Tony is reluctant so Loki adds, “You do not truly think that it is just your hair that needs washing, do you?” 

“I can handle—”

“I cannot reach the back of your shoulders from here.” 

Tony lets out a huff but turns around. The water sloshes, spilling over the side. Loki moves his leather boots out of the way. He lathers over tight, knotted muscles, digging into the tension with slow circles. A groan escapes Tony’s throat and he shifts uncomfortably. 

Tony’s reluctance to vocalize disappoints Loki, but he decides to let it go tonight. Tony is as frayed and wrung out as the last time that Loki saw him, maybe even more so. 

Tony’s eyes fall shut as Loki kneads at a particularly dense spot. The knot melts from his shoulder as Tony sinks a bit deeper into the warm water. Loki’s hands are soothing, and Tony is soaking in attention that he’s not even aware he’s needed. 

Loki’s patient, consistent attention chips away at Tony until he feels himself coming apart, finally letting go of the warped tension that’s kept him going the past week. 

He thinks he’s going to fall asleep when Loki’s hands still. “The rest of you,” Loki says quietly. 

“I—I can get it,” Tony breathes out. He looks back over his shoulder. 

Tony is pleading with those big brown eyes of his, and although Loki doesn’t fully understand why, he stands up. “I will get something to eat then,” he says, drying off his hands and leaving the bathroom. 

Tony watches him go, feeling like he’s royally screwed something up, then starts to fall apart as he struggles to wash off efficiently. 

Loki has unclogged whatever it is that’s been keeping Tony together, and it aches. It hurts like hell. Tony dries off, ignoring the clenching in his throat and the waterworks in his eyes. He’s fine, just fucking tired. He runs the towel back and forth in his hair, drying it the best that he can. 

He scrubs at his cheeks, taking a deep breath, then drops the towel over the rack. 

He knows his face is red and his eyes are puffy, and of course Loki notices, but Tony’s grateful he doesn’t say anything as Tony digs through his clothes for something comfortable to wear. 

Loki says nothing as anger spirals through him. Clearly, Tony is worse off than he thought, which is certainly saying something. 

Perhaps he was too merciful. 

Tony takes a carton of takeout noodles from the desk and sits on the edge of his bed, picking at it. It’s from a place that Tony likes, which means that Loki has been paying attention. The thought wedges inside of Tony’s chest. 

Loki crosses his arms, watching Tony without speaking. Tony is trying his best to stay focused on the noodles, and it bothers Loki beyond reason that Tony isn’t babbling or at least making an effort to speak. 

Halfway through the carton Tony’s body remembers that it hasn’t been fed in a day and he devours what’s left. He tosses the carton in the trash and catches a glimpse of Loki from the corner of his eye. The god hasn’t said a word as he’s been eating, and while quiet Loki isn’t unheard of, it still makes Tony weary. 

“Would you like more?” Loki asks. 

“No. Stuffed,” Tony says. He’s standing beside the bed and rubbing at his eye just as Loki starts to cross the room. Flashes of green peak out from the leather strips as they flare back from Loki, his boots coming into view. They’re scuffed up on the toes, and Loki doesn’t smell like Jotunheim anymore. 

He smells like that time he spent the entire weekend at Tony’s tower in various stages of undress. 

He must be waiting for something. “I know I owe you for Rhodey, so if there’s something—”

“You do not,” Loki says, offended. When Tony looks up there’s anger in those eyes, and he regrets it immediately. “I will accept no compensation for healing Colonel Rhodes.” 

Tony dares another glance upwards, and the trepidation lances Loki. “I do not come because I seek bargaining chips,” Loki asserts. “I do not come because I seek leverage, or malice, or spite.” 

Tony sinks down onto the bed. 

“Why do you come?” Tony asks, almost in a whisper. 

“When have you ever questioned my coming here before?” Loki asks in reply. 

It works. Tony scratches at his head before admitting, “I am so tired, Lo. And you are being so— _nice_.” It’s fucking bizarre, no one’s ever this nice. And this is Loki. “I don’t know what you want in return.” 

“Have you asked me for anything in return when you have been a help to me?” 

“No,” Tony says. “But like you said, I have the whole hero thing going on.” 

Loki breathes in through his nose. “And as I have said, that is precisely your problem.” Tony frowns at that, clasping the bedsheets between his fingers. “Yet,” Loki says. “Here we are.” 

There are deep, dark circles beneath Tony’s eyes and an age in his frown lines that Loki could swear was not there a week ago. There’s no understanding in his eyes, only weariness. Exhaustion. 

“Would you wish to change this?” Loki asks. 

Tony hates himself for it, hates that he’s weak and needs someone that is unabashedly on the other side, but he knows his answer. “No.” 

“Then cease your search for ulterior motives and accept what I give you,” Loki says, voice nearing a growl. 

“Because I’m yours?” Tony asks. Ah, there’s Tony. 

“Yes,” Loki answers. 

Tony starts babbling as Loki pulls him into bed. “And you’re mine?” 

“Yes.” He pulls his boots off by hand, dropping them to the floor before deciding that yes, he will just magic something else on. 

“Does that make us like, what—”

“I have no intention of announcing my relations to you to the courts on Asgard,” Loki says irritably, brushing his own hair back from his face. 

“Well it would be weird if your dad suddenly was with me—”

Loki groans, pressing a hand to Tony’s mouth. “Shhhh. We are not changing anything Stark, there is no need to go starry eyed and write my name in flourishes with your own.” 

“What?” Tony whispers. 

“Rest.” 

Loki sighs, tugging Tony into him. He feels like he hasn’t done enough, but he is not sure what else he can do. 

Then he feels Tony pull into him, nosing his way under Loki’s chin. And then Loki knows that he’s at least got something right. Tony’s body is warm against his chest. He can feel the mortal’s heart beating, feel the rise and fall of his chest. The arm he has protectively draped around Tony’s back is a slight reassurance that Tony isn’t going anywhere. 

He rubs his fingers in small motions against Tony’s back, assuring them both of where they are. 

Loki stares at the wall, listening to Tony breathe and ruminating on his mental state. He thought that with Colonel Rhodes Tony would be well again, but it hasn’t been enough. He needs something else. 

Long past the time that Loki thinks Tony has fallen asleep, Tony whispers into his chest. “Thank you.” 

“There will be no utterances of that sentiment,” Loki answers. 

Tony sighs, but he…he feels happy, he does. Content at least. Loki is holding him like he’s afraid that Tony might disappear. It’s comforting. Maybe there is some truth to the things Loki has said. 

 

The next day, Loki is sleeping in bed after their third round of sex when Tony’s flip phone rings. Tony’s hand trembles as he picks it up. 

“Tony?” Steve asks, before Tony can even speak. “I am so, so sorry.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested, Loki’s encounter with Steve because I am easily persuaded to write. XD  
> Warning: Loki, minor violence, resolving your emotions in don’t-do-this-at-home ways.  
> \---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rogers is easy to find. He’s wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, which Loki supposes is an attempt at a disguise. It would amuse him if he weren’t already irate. 

Loki takes slow, meandering steps towards the table at the back of the cafe. It makes him appear confident, predatory even, but it’s a calculated move to keep himself under control. 

He wants to beat Rogers until he’s just a smear in the pavement. 

But that would make Loki himself a source of Tony’s anguish, so it’s not an option. 

There’s an unspoken rule, a respect between himself and Tony. They don't go fighting each other’s battles. 

But Loki reasons that this meeting with Steve is an ultimatum, so it’s not the same thing. 

The cafe goers see nothing but a mild mannered blonde weaving his way over to the back table. 

Steve sees an enraged god of chaos marching in his direction. The whole world stops. 

“Hello, Rogers,” Loki says, lithely taking the seat across from him. It’s a sugar coated threat that makes Steve’s stomach churn. 

He can’t understand why no one else is reacting. 

Loki sets an elbow against the table and rests his chin on his palm, leaning in towards Steve with a lethal grin. He looks just the same as he did that day in New York, helmet and everything. It’s giving Steve flashbacks. “Aren’t you going to greet me?” Loki asks. 

Steve swallows. Up until now he hasn’t realized he’s in shock. He coughs, scrambling to make his mouth work. He’s forced to settle for taking a sip of ice water instead. 

He lets out a cold breath. His hand slightly tremors as he sets the glass down. 

Loki notices. Naturally. He lets his gaze rest on the tremor like he’s admiring a particularly fine painting in an expensive gallery.

“Where’s Tony?” Steve growls out. The way he manages to summon his captain voice, he’s never been more proud in his life. 

Loki mocks him with a smile. “Tony?” 

“You heard me.” 

“Tony’s not coming,” Loki answers, all brittle edges and remorseless fury now. 

“What did you do to him—” Steve falls ass down onto concrete. He scrambles to his feet, squinting in the sunlight and making out the New York skyline past the rooftop before he sees Loki. The god is a shadow only a few feet away, looming over Steve like the incarnation of every nightmare he’s ever had. It’s enough to render Steve speechless. 

Loki soaks in the fear in Steve’s eyes, knowing it’s a poor substitute for the pain he wants to inflict. 

He’d intended to have his little _no, Mr. Bond, I expect you to dine_ moment, but the nerve and hypocrisy of Rogers to accuse him of harming Tony have sent him over the edge. 

“Where’s Tony?” Steve demands, before Loki can stomach his rage down deep enough to speak. 

Steve doubles over, coughing and wheezing at the fist that’s landed in his gut. 

Loki takes two steps back, stopping himself before it turns into something he regrets. He is supposed to have control. These mindless acts of rage remind him of Tho—never mind, moving onwards. 

“I do hope that you had not yet placed your order,” Loki says. It’s grittier than he wishes it to be, spoken too quickly to be as callous as it should be. A chair appears and ropes bind Rogers to it. “We have some business matters to discuss.” 

“Business,” Steve says. 

Loki paces a few steps, fighting off the urge to deck Rogers in the teeth. “There will be no negotiations, but you may fool yourself with the prospect if you wish,” Loki says. 

“What do you want?” 

Loki breathes in long and deep through his nose. He attempts to picture a nude beach, as Tony often advises. “You are quite fond of James Buchanan Barnes, are you not?” 

Steve’s face crumples with an anger that satisfies Loki deep in his gut. There’s fear in Steve’s expression too, and Loki knows he’s already won. “And Samuel Thomas Wilson?” Loki grins, taking Steve’s silence as another win. 

Loki steps over to Rogers, trusting himself just enough to set his hand on Roger’s face without snapping his neck. He holds Rogers jaw in his hand, tipping his head up to relish the spite in those pathetic blue eyes. “I am well acquainted with your little friends,” Loki tells him. 

He’s rough as he slides his fingers down Roger’s jaw and grips his chin tight enough to bruise. “I will take exceptional pleasure in tearing them apart piece by bloody piece if you ever lay a hand on Tony again.” 

Steve flinches and jostles his head on impulse, resulting in a crushing grip from the hand holding onto his face. The pain shoots down his neck and he clenches his teeth. Something about the way that Loki says Tony’s name makes Steve’s blood run cold. 

Something’s not right, he’s just not sure what it is. 

Yet Steve’s not going to back down, so he speaks as if he is not at Loki’s mercy. “Since when do you care about Tony? Last time I checked, you threw him through a window.” 

Loki backhands him so fast that Steve doesn’t make sense of it until a few seconds later, when he tastes the blood from his nose. 

Loki is breathing too hard, panting like a wounded animal. 

He doesn’t trust himself to speak for a few moments, mind too inundated with counterarguments and insults against Rogers to function properly. 

He will not give Tony and his secret away. 

“Stark is useful to me,” Loki lies. “I am not blind to the power his mind possesses. There may be a time when I have need of it, and I can hardly expect to reap in his creations when you and your petty fights are impeding his progress.” He wipes his hand off on one of his leathers. “I want him living,” Loki says. “His work finds its proper and glorious life in my hands.” 

Loki doesn’t have to read Steve’s mind to know he’s thinking of Ultron. Blaming Tony for it. Assuming that Loki is intending to use some equally misguided creation for his own means. It sickens Loki to use that particular prejudice when it’s already wounded Tony so much, but he knows it’s the best manipulation. He knows it will work and that’s what he needs. 

Suddenly this all makes sense to Steve and he leans back into his chair like this is just another day on the job. 

“Does Tony know you’re planning to take his work?” 

The cocky tone isn’t lost on Loki. “He does not,” Loki says. He reaches a hand towards Steve and relishes the little jump that creates. “And until the day comes that I have need of him, he will not.” Loki draws his hand back into a fist at his side, restraining himself. “Unless you wish for Barnes to pay for that?” 

Steve shifts his legs, testing the chair. “You wouldn’t be the first madman to hold Tony hostage for one of his weapons.” Steve smirks. “It didn’t work out so well for the last one.” 

The arrogance. The audacity. Loki doesn’t think he can stand it. He wants to pummel Steve, he wants to chastise and torture him for things that as Stark’s enemy he should have no manner of knowing. But he can’t. 

“Let me make this simple for you, Rogers. Your recent tiff caught the attention of the entirety of Midgard. Now, I may only be the prince of the most powerful realm and ignorant of your planet’s antiquated political maneuverings, but it appears to me that your obstinate, reckless behavior has imprisoned your allies, ruined your reputation and credibility across one hundred and seventeen countries, and, most importantly, wounded one that belongs to me.” 

Loki examines the little bit of Steve’s blood that’s left on his hand, holding it where Steve can see. It’s only a nosebleed, but it makes the point clear enough. “You are free to continue going about professing your grandiose notions of truth, honor, and patriotism in your nation of one if you wish.” 

Loki turns his back to Steve, deliberately tempting him to act out in a means to escape. “But if you injure Stark in any manner, and I do mean _any_ manner,” Loki glances over his shoulder and smugly notes Steve’s subtle attempts at testing the ropes, “I will kill your friends in front of you, are we clear?” 

Steve looks at the ground in front of him, and Loki takes a few anticipatory steps back.

“Or,” Loki says, attempting to appear gleeful. “Perhaps I will film the ordeal and make you watch?” 

Steve stares down at the ground, but this time it is out of shame. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Don’t I?” Loki asks. Steve is starting to panic, he can feel it. “I couldn’t miss the events of your—” Loki laughs as he says the word. “ _Clandestine_ organization if I tried.” 

He turns his back. 

“It was overrun with, what was that creature—ah, yes. A hydra. Are you sure you caught every last head?” Loki takes another step forward. Steve needs a bit more goading. “Though, taking into account your recent actions, perhaps you’re one of those heads?” 

“I would never!” Steve attempts to flip the chair over, launching all of his power into the jump, but all it takes is the dullest effort from Loki to send the chair sprawling onto its side midair before landing intact with a heavy thud. A groan slips from Steve’s throat. “I’m not one of them,” Steve says, voice cracking in pain. 

“That’s not what I heard.” Loki knows its false, but that’s not the point. He wants Rogers to think that’s what other people believe because it’s the antithesis of who Rogers thinks he is. It will destroy Rogers. 

Unimpressed, Loki walks over to him. He tips the chair over onto its back with his toe, then sets the bottom of his boot on Roger’s shoulder. After a snide once over of Roger’s reclining form he says with disinterest, “I cannot fathom why Stark associates with a self-righteous child like you.” 

He sighs, releasing a little more weight into his boot. “Do you understand that he is mine, Rogers?” The captain looks away. “Do you understand what will happen if you displease me?” 

“I will never be a man like you that stands above everybody else!” 

“You already are one of those men, Rogers.” Loki says it with such conviction that he can see an unspeakable fear affirming itself in Steve’s eyes. 

He’s the perfect mouthpiece, a man of unspeakable evil that Rogers loathes, telling him that they’re the same. And Rogers is shaken enough to start believing it. 

Loki decides to wedge the final blow to Rogers’ psyche in, slick and lethal as a dagger. “You just aren’t good at it.” 

He removes his boot from Roger’s shoulder, as if the body below him is filthy. “Now, then. If you harm Stark, what will occur?” 

“Bucky and Sam will get hurt,” Steve says quietly. 

“Killed,” Loki cheerfully corrects him. 

“Killed,” Steve says. 

“Very good,” Loki praises him. 

He knows his work is finished. He’s gone far further than he originally intended to, but it’s also far kinder than he wishes to be. “And not a word of this to Stark or anyone else, do you understand?” 

“Yes.” 

Loki decides to leave before he changes his mind. 

Steve shouts after him, but it’s the cry of a desperate man. “You’re—you’re not even supposed to be alive!” 

“Indeed. You would do well to remember it.”

Loki pauses, then looks back once. Steve is staring at the ground, panting slightly, utterly broken. A satisfaction settles over Loki at the sight, and though Loki knows its not a state that his nature allows him to stay in for long, he covets it.

Rogers will never wound Tony that way again. 

 

Loki had thought his work complete once he healed Colonel Rhodes and put Rogers in his place, but he realizes that Tony needs something more. He still aches, and Loki cannot stand it. 

The rooftop was about what Loki wanted from Steve. Now he realizes that there’s something Tony needs from Steve. 

In the morning he takes Tony like it’s the first time and like it’s the last time, needing it just as much if not more than Tony does. Then he leaves a sleeping double in his place as he goes to find Rogers. 

He decided a long time ago that Tony was his. The wretched world doesn’t deserve his genius. Loki knows that there will never be a day that Tony turns his back on that world though, just as Loki knows that there will never be a day that they face that world on the same side. 

But there’s nothing stopping him from protecting Tony from the shadows of that wretched world. Tony is his.

And as he pretends to wake, Tony crawling into his arms with an honest to gods smile and looking like fifty pounds has been lifted off his shoulders after that phone call as he babbles away, Loki knows that’s never going to change.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Mal-Media](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135781) by [silver_drip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_drip/pseuds/silver_drip)




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